So Not Another Gratuitious Shower Scene
by bambers2
Summary: from all the late night conversations about who has a better body, Sam or Dean...and how we all love shower scenes
1. Chapter 1

_Just a little short story . . .cause it so hot and steamy here tonight, and it made me think of all the shower scenes people write about!! hope you all enjoy!! thanks for reading!! let me know what you think!! bambers;)_

_So Not Another Gratuitous Shower Scene_ . . . .

Sam flipped open his laptop, and turned it on to find his email inbox full. "Hey, Dean," he called back over his shoulder. "More fan mail."

"Dude, do I know my tv or what?" Dean rushed to his brother's side, leaned over Sam, and peered down at the computer screen. Clapping his hand on Sam's shoulder, Dean chuckled. "I told you people would just love a show about what we do for a living. Thanks to Reality Televsion we're finally getting a little of the recognition we deserve." Leaning a little further over his brother, Dean's eyes narrowed considerably. "Are they all like that?"

Sam pointed at the screen, and shook his head in disgust. "Well, it seems Mandy in Illinois, thinks your shower scenes are too short . . . too much soap involved, and not enough drying off time between getting dressed."

He clicked on the next email, and continued, "But, Rose, in Jacksonville North Carolina, thinks the showers scenes are awesome, but could there be more of them . . . PLEASE." Sam chuckled. "Capital letters, Dean . . . that's so sweet."

"They can't all be like that," Dean grumbled.

"Well, here's one from Carol, in Arizona. She says she would like to see us trapped in the desert, all hot and glistening with our shirts off, laying on the hood of the Impala. In fact, she says she doesn't care where we are as long as our shirts are off."

"Sam, skip a couple, there has to be some in there about what we do. I mean for Christ sakes, we fight demons for a living."

Sam scrolled down and randomly opened another. "Well, it seems, Betsy, from New York is my biggest fan." He turned, and flashed a brilliant smile at Dean.

"Yeah, and it also seems, that good old Betsy wants to tie you up and do . . . God, Sam can a person really do that all slathered in chocolate?"

Sam swung back to look at what Betsy had written and quickly deleted it. His face turning bright red.

"Aww . . . Sam, why did you have to go and delete it. Betsy's gonna be so disappointed."

"Yeah, so not funny, Dean." Clicking on another email, Sam read through it quickly. "Marlene from Washington wants more shower scenes as well, and wonders if we've ever done any modeling."

Sam opened the next, and smiled. "Dean, it seems as if good old Betsy has a thing for you as well. Whip cream and cherries this time."

"Man, we gotta get to New York more often, Sammy." Tired of leaning over his brother to read the fan mail, Dean pulled up a chair, and perched himself on it. "What does the next one say."

"Charlene, from Alaska, says the fight scenes could be a little more realistic . . . says the blood looks kinda fake . . . but she just adores the brotherly banter, and can never get enough of me in the shower."

"God, Sam, how dirty do these people think we get."

"Awww . . . Dean you're just pissed because she prefers my glistening pecs to yours."

Dean reached over and clicked on the next one. "Kelly, from Pennsylvania say she can never get enough of the show." He gave his brother a sidelong glance, smiling, thinking he'd finally found one person who appreciated the importance of their work. "See I told you."

"Read further, Dean." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "It says she would like an entire show devoted to whether we wear boxers or briefs, and if at all possible could we please do a show in nothing but silk boxers, during a rain storm . . . cause that would just be plain awesome."

Sam clicked on the next one. "Apparently, Frédérique from France caught our show while she's been in America for the past seven months, and is wondering if there will soon be a French version available."

"Oh, dude, we've gone international."

"She also claims to be a huge Deangirl, but loves me just as much . . . and can never seem to get enough HurtSam and ProtectiveDean."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know, but it sounds like she might be a little on the sadistic side."

Dean knocked Sam's hand out of the way and clicked on the next one. "Seems, Jude, in Florida, has been hooked on our show since the first episode aired."

"That's good."

"She says she thinks she has a vengeful spirit living in her shower, and wants to know if we make house calls . . . oh, she also states that the spirit only appears when someone is taking a shower . . . and thinks I might be just the right person to get rid of it for her. PS . . . she has plenty of soap, no need to bring my own."

Sam clicked on the second to last one. "Bambi in New York . . . oh, God, Dean, not another New Yorker."

"What does it say?"

"Seems Bambi from New York just started writing Fan Fiction stories about us . . . she says she's a huge Sammygirl and loves to torture me every chance she gets . . . nearly kills me off by the end of each story."

"Yeah, so definitely staying away from New York."

"She also goes on to say that she and her friends have debates over who's body is better, and she thinks mine wins hands down, although she finds you extremely sexy."

"Sexy's good. I can live with sexy."

"But, she said when she saw me jolt my pecs while wearing nothing but a towel, she totally forgot you were in the room." Sam chuckled. "She also agrees there are definitely not enough shower scenes."

"This so sucks. We're out there nearly killing ourselves day after day, and all any one cares about is gratuitous shower scenes." He nodded his head toward the screen. "So what does the last one say?"

"It's from the television executives. They want to know if we would like to do another season?"

They both looked at each other for a second, smiled, and simultaneously said, "Oh, hell yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

_so wasn't gonna write a second chappy to this, but then had a lot of people ask for one...so here it is...hopefully it will make people smile!! thanks for reading!! bambers;)_

_Chapter Two_

Sam eyelids fluttered open, at the low sound of Dean chuckling. He blinked several times, and then looked around the darkened room for his brother. Dean sat at the small table near the door, with Sam's laptop propped open, busily typing away. Sam checked the clock and was surprised to see that Dean was still awake after their long night of hunting.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam asked, and his brother jumped a little in surprise. "You aren't reading those fan letters again are you?"

"Naw, waiting for more of them to come in so I can read them all at once."

"Research then?" Sam yawned tiredly, then stretched his aching muscles. Getting out of bed, he plodded over to the table and sat beside his brother.

"Kinda," Dean said, rather evasively.

"What does kinda mean?"

"I googled our names."

"Come again?" Sam asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, Sammy, everyone's done it at least once in their lives."

Sam was about to argue, but figured why bother. "So what did you find?"

Dean turned the screen so Sam could take a better look. "Supernaturalville . . . a whole site dedicated to us, Sammy. How freakin cool is that?

Sam quickly glanced at the screen, surprised to see pictures of Dean and him at the top of the screen along with the Impala and some of the things they hunted. "Still doesn't explain what you were typing."

"They have a chatbox, Sam." Dean gestured toward the screen. "See this girl here, named Kwater, Kel, to her friends, has stalker fantasies about us . . . think she might be hot?" He turned to look at Sam, then returned his attention to the screen. "Cause I kinda like the idea of a hot stalker chasing after us. Hell, I might even let her catch us."

Sam chuckled, and pointed toward the screen. "How about Fredo?"

"Dude, she has a seriously freaky obsession with the thought of us in a laundromat, stripped down to our boxers, washing clothes."

"Why?"

"Don't know." Dean shrugged. "But, she seems to like the idea of it being a hot and steamy night outside, and the air conditioning inside is broken so we'd be all hot and glistening."

"Move over a bit, Dean." Sam pushed himself a bit closer to the screen. "How about her?"

"That's Jude." Dean smiled. "She wants life size shower stickups of us . . . apparently another one of those, can't get enough of us in the shower girls."

Dean lightly smacked Sam on the arm. "Oh, learned what HurtSam and ProtectiveDean meant by the way." He hesitated, a slow grin slipping across his features.

"Well, you gonna tell me."

Pointing toward a few of the names, Dean said, "Apparently, some of these girls are sadistic. They like to see you hurt — A LOT. They also use terms such as SamWhumpage and LimpSam." His gaze trailed downward, and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Better you than me, dude."

"I'm sure that's not what they meant, Dean."

"Whatever gets you through the night, Sammy." Smirking, Dean returned his attention to the computer. "Seems ProtectiveDean — "

"Yeah, think I can figure that one out by myself," Sam said angrily.

"They also refer to me as HurtDean and even heard seriously PissedOffDean . . . think that means I'm getting ready to kick some demon ass."

"How about that girl?" Sam gestured to the screen, more than ready to change the subject.

"Bambers . . . think she might be a demon, dude," Dean said, his tone turning serious.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, Jude keeps referring to her as evil, and so I skimmed through a couple of the stories she wrote, and I got to admit, Jude might have a point."

"Stories?"

"Dude, whole freakin stories about us." Dean clicked on a link and a list of stories came up. "See." He clicked back to the main page, and continued, "Anyway, Bambers seems to have a serious LimpSam thing going on." He glanced down again, and chuckled. "So I'm thinkin demon."

Scowling, Sam punched Dean in the shoulder. "Dude, it so totally doesn't mean what you're implying." He turned to look at the screen once more. "Who's Sexylips? Seems like she has a serious thing for your hot abs, luscious lips, and . . . ." His voice trailed off as he saw Dean smiling. "Oh, my freakin, God . . . you're Sexylips."

"Naw, dude." Dean shook his head, trying to deny it, but his grin deepened.

Sam scrolled down, and read the comments left by Sexylips. "Much hotter than Sam . . . Lips that make me drool on my keyboard . . . his gorgeous green eyes make me go wild with burning desire . . . abs of a god. This is so totally you."

"Just trying to fit in with the crowd, Sammy."

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Let's read more emails." Sam was about to click off the screen, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait, gotta say bye to the girls."

"You're kidding, right?"

Sam clicked on his emails, and smiled. "Ahhh . . . Kayla who grew up in a small town, loves ghost stories, and is a Sammygirl all the way. Loves my sexy six-pack abs . . . got that, Sexylips. My sexy abs!"

"You forgot to mention she finds me just as delicious."

"But, she says she wants more Sam shower scenes, loves to see me dripping wet, with my towel riding low over my waist."

Dean pushed Sam's hand out of the way and clicked on the next one. "Seems Genevieve, who is an avid Deangirl, has a serious desire to see us get caught in a holdup on one of the shows."

"Why the hell would she want to see that?"

"Well, apparently, she wants the bad guys to steal all of our clothes, leaving us in just boxers."

"Seriously, dude, what is about these girls and boxers?"

"Well, from what Jude, Kel, Fredo, and Bambers say, boxers are totally sexy. Although, I think one of them wondered if we ever went commando." Grinning, they both turned and looked at each other for a moment. "Yeah, not even gonna go there, dude, gotta leave a little to the imagination."

Dean clicked on the next one. "Lam wants to see me take a shower outside, on some deserted highway, in the cold."

"Why in the cold?"

"I don't know . . . something about taut muscles and stiff nipples."

"Ah, that would do it."

Sam reached over Dean and hit on the next one. "Kori is on the fence and can't decide who she thinks is hotter, me or you." Sam drew in a deep breath, and slowly released it, then continued. "She suggests we have a contest to determine who has the hottest body. She has volunteered to be the judge, but says the judging would have to very hands on if she was to truly determine a winner."

"Could be fun."

Scrolling to the next one, Dean opened it. "This ones from Meh from Denmark . . . dude, more foreign girls . . . how hot is that." He glanced at Sam and his smile widened. "Seems Meh is a water nymph . . . wants us to come and take a swim with her. Swimsuits not necessary. Awww . . . dude, she wants to share her towel." Dean quirked a brow, biting at his lower lip. "How far to Denmark?"

"Dude, you don't fly, remember."

"Boats, Sammy. There's always boats."

"True, I'll look into it."

Sam opened the next one, and raised a quizzical brow. "Huh."

"What is it?" Dean asked half-heartedly, his mind still on Denmark.

"Apparently, Alanah, is writing a novel and would like your insight, Dean."

"Really. See, Sammy, all our hard work fighting demons is finally paying off. A book about us, pretty freakin cool."

"Well, it's not exactly about the Supernatural, Dean."

"Then what?"

"Well, apparently it entails you and a sexy dark-haired lover . . . she gave the name of the hotel she's staying at for _research_ purposes . . . wants to make sure she gets all the details correct."

"Always loved doing research."

Sam shook his head, staring at Dean. "You so totally have never loved doing research."

"Just needed the right incentive, Sammy." He glanced at the screen, searching for the name of the hotel, but Sam clicked on the next email.

"Tilisha can't decide which she likes better, your thick beautiful body or my lean yet muscular frame, but has come to the conclusion, she would like to see us running through the forest chasing after a wendigo in nothing but boxers."

"Dude, where would we keep our weapons?"

"Dunno, apparently Tilisha is a HurtSam, HurtDean girl."

Dean pushed Sam out of the way and hit the button, and read the next email. "Maggie is a bartender and a real pool shark." Dean grinned. "My kind of girl."

"Huh, Dean, she wants to challenge you to a game of strip pool. Winner takes all."

"Could be interesting . . . save that one, Sammy."

Sam clicked on the last email. "This one is from Maria Noel, Dean."

"What does she say?"

"Says she loves your car."

"Smart girl." Dean nodded approvingly.

"Says she wants us to devote a whole show to washing it."

"A whole show?"

"Yeah, says watching us with shirts off, in the hot summer sun, all soapy and glistening would really make her day."

"So not washing my car with you, dude."

"Yeah, never gonna happen."

Dean yawned, then stood and stretched. "Think I'm gonna get to bed. What about you?"

"Naw, not tired. Gonna research our next job for a bit."

"Okay, don't stay up too long."

"I won't."

Dean strode to the bed, and flopped down onto it.

Sam glanced up from the computer screen, and made sure his brother was in bed. After a few seconds, he lowered his head, clicked on the Supernaturalville website, and registered himself under the name, SuperSexySam.

Scrolling down to the chatbox, he wrote, _Damn, Sam is so freakin sexy . . . just love to watch him flex his pecs._

"Say goodnight to Fredo, Kel, Jude, and Bambers for me, Sammy." Dean chuckled, and rolled over to go to sleep.


End file.
